System Godfathers

"Who are you?" A cringe-worthy baritone voice rippled through the placid space. "And why are you here?" It continued.

To be honest, the bombardment of questions was one I was expecting, but hearing it at that moment caused my heart to tighten. On normal days, my boldness would have prevailed, but today was not one of those days. It was a make-it-or-break-it day for me. I took a deep breath, taking a mental note to be well-calculated while speaking. But as I opened my mouth to talk, a severe stuttering clamped down on my words.

"Uhm... Sir, I w-was the b-best graduating student, a valedictorian..."

"And so freaking what?" The voice boomed again, cutting me off. It seemingly echoed in my bones. The way the man sounded - disrespectful, for no reason - was what unnerved me the most. His voice was laced with some unprovoked aggression, as if I were some stench in the universe.

I took in his appearance. His frame was solid.

Sitting behind a glass table in a posture that exuded ownership, his eyes were stern and brown, complimenting his square jaw and bushy mustache. On his neck was a blue tattoo of an eagle's wings. It stayed visible despite the attempts of his velvet-colored tuxedo to conceal it.

My gaze shifted to his wrist, and a luxury chain watch caught my attention. It was glistening. Even his shoe, visible through the glass table, oozed sophistication.

I re-adjusted my round glasses, blinking severely while seeking refuge behind them. The fact that my mother had warned me against establishments like this weighed down on my apprehension. But, my determination to rise above my dire circumstances prevailed at the moment. I cleared my throat and tried again.

"Sir, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I am Ceasar Delores, a first-class graduate of an Ivy League University of Business and Management in the United States of America. I grew up in the Western District of New Columbia..."

"New Columbia, huh?" He cut me off again, his gaze drilling into me. I nodded fervently, handing him my curriculum vitae. He chuckled, rather wickedly, and began to flip through the pages. While he did that, I took the time to check out the office. I had not been able to absorb the view earlier in order not to get overwhelmed by its sheer opulence. But, my goodness! Was it classy?

Set against a pristine white background, the interior designs seemed to have descended from divinity. The square cushions on the right side were white, sitting around a glass table. Somewhere nearby, a grand piano stood, elegant and poised. On my left, a glass roof-to-floor window revealed the entire City of Graef, in all its glory. The mosaic of buildings appeared as colorful dwarf stones set against lush green vegetation, hills, valleys, and sinuous roads.

In truth, I had never been inside a skyscraper before- that was how destitute my background was. Even worse, I had not used an elevator until today.

The sound of deep-seethed giggling pulled me back to reality. I faced the bald man again and witnessed him shaking his head in disagreement.

Oh, this can't be good. I thought to myself.

"So you think your excellent records alone are sufficient to get you a job here? Of all places in the beautiful City of Graef?"

"I don't quite follow, sir," I replied, with a puzzled expression plastered on my face.

"Look around you, boy. This is not America, is it?"

"No, sir."

"Good. You are in Le Cross Incorporation, in Graef!" He flung my documents at me. "This company owns cities, estates, properties, shares, and even people. Lots of people. What makes you think you can just waltz in here for a job interview, uninvited?" His voice begins to assume a higher octave, his posture straightening.

"I am very sorry, sir. I j-just saw the advertisement on the billboard..."

"... And assumed it was for you?" He interjected, his eyes, condescending as they were, sliced through me. "They were mere protocols for goodness's sake! This job is reserved for a specific set of people. Not riffraff like you."

My confidence began to ebb away with every word he unleashed. Even my urge to speak waned, since this had quickly descended into a game of class.

The man picked up an idle cigar lying on his table and stuck it into his mouth. Then a mischievous grin perused his face. He tossed a lighter at me.

"Light my cigar, boy." He growled, more of a command than a request. I sighed, staring at the crafty silver object for a while. Perhaps doing this would gain my favor.

I picked up the lighter and tried to stand up, but doing that suddenly became impossible under the weight of my ego. I swallowed hard and passed my gaze at him.

"You want the job, don't you? Peasant..." He pressed on, with more emphasis on the last word. This statement made my insides wallow in a mixed feeling of anger and shame. If I had my way in this situation, I would have made him eat his words, and perhaps, smash his head against the table as a bonus.

What struck me most was how his eyes lit up whenever he blurted out such arrogant profanities and belittled me. It glared with cruel fire, one peculiar to bullies. I tried to take a deep breath to calm my nerves, but my heart seemed to have slowly become a burning furnace.

"You know what?" I stormed up to my feet. "Take your job and shove it up your arse!" I snapped.

"What?" His eyes widened.

"You heard me." Unable to hold back my temper, I turned to leave, propelled by my righteous rage.

"Which 'Mafiaso' protects you and your family?" His words arrested me instantly. My bone marrow froze.

Slowly, I veered around, my anger quickly morphing into regret and fear. Not for myself, but for my mother. Having known the modus operandi of the mafia organizations in New Graef City- they easily extend their grievances to innocent family members- I was wary that I had done a foolish thing.

"Oh, you think I would not know?" He giggled again, with his eyes never leaving mine. I remained still, silenced by the grave implications that might follow.

"If not for the backing of your Mafiaso, what would have given an innocent-looking young man like you the impetus to talk to me in such a manner, huh?"

In truth, I did not belong to any fraternity, but I could not tell him that. What do I do now? My heart broke into a sprint.

A nerve-wracking tension descended on the scene as our hardened gazes held onto each other. No further words were spoken. My heart simply became steel. If he were to punish me, he could get on with it, as long as my family was not implicated. That was all.

Just then, the office door slid open behind me and the sound of footsteps making cadet knocks on the immaculate floor became prevalent. Were they coming for me already? I wondered as my heart began to pound against my rib cage. If only I had heeded my mother's warning and continued to seek employment in moderate establishments, I would not be in this situation. Now my ambition had led me to this Mafiaso den.

"Having fun, Brunswick?" A familiar feminine voice darts into my ear, and I swivel sharply only to behold a beauty, an epitome of perfection. I froze.

Clad in a straight-cut crimson skirt and cream-colored feathery blouse, her yellow skin remained radiant against the white background, her curly raven hair packed upward and neatly pinned. Her sleek curves were apparent in her apparel. And as she walked onto the scene, a scent of lavender followed her. My fears quickly gave way to surprise.

For the first time, I saw this hardened interviewer smile broadly as his eyes traced the contours of this goddess' body in a way that made me somewhat jealous.

"Holy Molly! Do you get more beautiful every day?" He exclaimed.

"Cut the nonsense, Brun." The woman slammed a file on his table. "Padriano needs you on this. He demands that you treat it as a matter of urgency."

"Roger that, Mama Mia. If you would just give me a hug, kiss, or something."

"Kill that thought, Brun." She retorted and veered around. Then, by mere coincidence, our stares collided, a cataclysmic clash! Her neck muscles stiffened as the moment stretched into eternity. Vistas of memories sparked, and her empty blue eyes caused me to die ten times. Her brows furrowed and released, and I had my evidence, a testament to the fact that she remembered.

Flashes of the times we shared whipped across my mind, painful like a fresh wound. I could still hear the rhythm of her heartbeat and feel the warmth of her flesh. All the intense instants of the mortal ascension were immediately relived in my head as if intertwined with phantoms of paradise. The overwhelming emotions came alive, and tears welled up in my eyes. But as I was just about to let out my warmest smile, Brun intervened.

"You know this riffraff, eh?" He asked, and she kept mute for a while, blinking severely as if returning from a trance.

"No," she lied, then whipped around with wicked urgency and strode away.

Oh, my Cleopatra! My heart was drenched in a sea of sorrows as I watched her leave, her hips swerving, her arse slapping against each other. Of all the heart-wrenching events today, this moment annihilated me.

To make it even worse, Brunswick would not just let go. He kept pressing my buttons. "So, you like that arse, huh? You like expensive things, eh, you poverty-stricken prick?"

Slowly, I turned to him, my eyes narrowing from the rage seething inside of me.

"Oh, what are you going to do, Ceasar Delores? Nothing, absolutely nothing." He relaxes on his seat and folds his arms. "And you know what? That pretty arse is mine. I clap her cheeks every night."

"Shut up!" I roared, veins popping out of my forehead. I could not tell where the boldness came from, but I knew that a lot of pain had been built up and stored inside me. Now it was let loose and was overwhelming.

Surprisingly, instead of picking offense, Brun released several hearty peals of laughter. "Paupers have no right to be angry, Ceasar. Do you know why?" He perked up, but I remained mute.

"Because they can't do anything."

Unwilling to take any more of his garbage, I veered toward the exit, each stride hasty. I just couldn't wait to get out of there. Then, suddenly I slipped and fell, landing face-first on the hard tile. Knife-like pain seared through my skull and a severe headache followed. I forced myself as quickly as I could, picking up what was left of my ego, swallowing my pain, and readjusting my tie.

Brun's laughter grew more intense in the background. It even stimulated more tears in my eyes than the pain of the fall. I glanced at my watch and saw that the screen had broken. In truth, it was not even mine.

Could my day get any worse? I wondered, as the sensation of a warm fluid trickling out of my nose alarmed me. I touched it with my fingers, and on examining it, I saw that I was bleeding. I could even taste blood in my mouth.

I grew vengeful within as I walked away. Who would I blame? Brun or myself? No, seeing that woman was the bane of me. And now another interview had ended up as a failed attempt at a better life. Perhaps it was high time I gave up on this struggle and embraced the Graelf life.

I headed toward the elevator and pulled out my phone. It came alive with an old picture of me and Roma kissing, the yellow-skinned damsel I stumbled upon in the office. It was my screensaver, a reminder of the best years of my life. I observed some new cracks on the screen of my phone.

"Damn it!" I kissed my teeth. Pulling up my contact list, I searched through the numbers I tucked away for a very long time, then dialed the very one I swore to never call.

"Hello," a familiar baritone voice boomed from the earpiece.

"Hello? Stankovic." I hollered.

"Yes, who is this?"

"It is Ceasar Delores."

"Son of a...! After all these years?"

"Stan, listen..."

"What? You promised to never call me in your miserable life..."

"I want in." I quickly interjected and a sudden lull followed. I could bet he was shocked to his core.

"I thought this life was never for you, Ceasar." His voice was reduced to a whisper.

"Who cares what I said?" I replied.